Page 33 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

When John woke, the grey half-light of morning was seeping about the curtains, filling the room with an eerie partial illumination. It took a matter of moments for the memories of Katherine beneath him to return.

It had been the sweetest night he had spent with any woman. He had never been given the gift of virginity before.

He would worship the ground she walked on for the rest of his life. There was a deep feeling of satisfaction within him, despite the dream he had last night. He felt whole and normal.

His eyes turned from the canopy of his ostentatious bed to look at Katherine and then he rolled onto his side.

She was lying on her back, one hand resting backwards on the pillow while the other lay over her midriff.

Her breasts rose with her breathing and her face was turned towards him.

Her brow was clear of creases. Her skin, though, displayed a scattering of freckles.

His fingers itched to touch her, but she was sleeping; her delicate light brown lashes rested on her cheeks, while her rose pink lips, slightly parted, waited for his kiss.

A sharp pain pierced his chest, a longing that was more than physical. He swallowed back his want. She would be sore and he could be patient and wait for the next time to come. But he could no longer restrain his desire to touch. His fingertip stroked Katherine’s cheek and ran along her nose.

Her eyelids fluttered open.

Katherine met John’s gaze. It was filled with a tender appreciation. This was simply John, there was nothing of the duke in his eyes. It had been that way last night as they had made love.

His gentle touch trailed over her covered breast, and then brushed along her forearm, running back and forth as her arm lay across her middle. ‘How are you?’

‘A little achy,’ she answered.

He smiled. ‘Shall I kiss it away?’ She nodded. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. ‘Better?’ he asked when he pulled away.

‘Yes. Always, when you kiss me.’

His fingertips skimmed across her skin again.

What he’d done last night had been incredibly beautiful.

She knew why she had been born now. She knew why her mother had craved the perfect bliss of lying with a man.

Katherine did not blame her any more. She did not even curse the wanton blood she had inherited.

She was glad of it, glad because it could make her feel like this, so cherished and attractive.

‘I have to go back to London…’ he said, still holding her gaze.

She had known it, he had said so before.

‘The House of Lords will open soon. Come with me… I will buy you a house, a smart one somewhere close to Mayfair. I will take you to the theatre, and buy you jewels, Katherine, and dresses, and bonnets, as many as you wish. You will have everything you have ever dreamed of. I will look after you.’

His words brought her back to reality as shockingly as though he had thrown her into the cold lake outside.

He was serious. He really thought she would wish to become his mistress.

She felt dirty, and foolish again. Oh, so foolish .

She told him she loved him and he offered her this insult in return.

Yet of course he would now think this of her; she had given her body to him as any fallen woman might for the price of a dress and a bonnet.

He may not understand love, but she understood immorality. She would be looked down on and rejected everywhere. She rolled away and got out of his bed. ‘I do not want those things.’ She collected her nightgown from the floor and slid it back on. ‘The only thing I have ever wanted is you.’

‘You will have me.’

‘No, John, I would not have you. I would have the Duke of Pembroke.’

His hand lifted, urging her to come back. ‘Katherine…’

‘I am not for sale, John, you cannot buy me.’

His brow furrowed. ‘I am not trying to buy you. I want you with me.’

‘You want,’ she echoed, angrily. ‘We cannot always have what we want, John.’

He reached out further and caught her wrist. ‘You wanted this! You came to me!’

Because you needed me! ‘I did, because I am frail like my mother. It does not mean I wish to publicly prostitute myself. Last night I told you how important Phillip and Papa are to me, and you would suggest this knowing you would take them from me.’

‘They are not even your real family. You cannot care what they think.’

Truly he did not understand love. ‘I shall not be your mistress, John. It matters what they think and to ask such a thing you can have no respect for me.’

His expression changed.

‘You do not want me?’ he asked.

Not at the cost of herself. ‘Not like that, John.’

His gaze held hers, his hand still holding her wrist. ‘I would not cast you off,’ he said. ‘You can trust me. I will keep you for the rest of your life if you will let me? We could raise a family.’

Katherine felt the bitter taste of his words. It was a vile thought. I am not a whore. Am I? But she was in his room, and she had come to him.

A chill swept through her.

‘Let me go, John.’ She tugged against his grip.

His eyes were hard but his hand released her. ‘When may I see you then? When I am here next?’

Her heart thundered. No. It could not continue.

She had learned her lesson. He thought her a whore while she had offered love.

She took a step back and then another, her pace increasing with each one.

She was ready to run. ‘No, John. I think now it is over, as it should have been. You were right, there is nowhere this can go.’

‘Katherine?’ His hand lifted as though to reach for her again. She turned and fled, racing out of his room as she heard him call again. ‘Katherine, wait!’

When she reached her room she threw herself on the bed and cried her heart out. Was this how her mother felt too when it was all over? Was this why she had taken her own life?

John dropped back to sit on the edge of the bed and his hand swept through his hair. What the hell had just happened and what on earth did she mean about being frail like her mother?

But her words had made him see with intense clarity what a blind idiot he had been.

He had offered a gently bred, innocent woman probably the biggest insult of her life.

Spoilt was not the half of it. He had treated her like the women he had learned to abhor on the continent. At that moment, he despised himself.

He got up, dressed and went out to the stables, catching the grooms off guard, but his stallion was ready in moments and he took the animal out for a long hard ride. It was not the sport he would have chosen this morning but he could not be idle.

By the time he returned, the breakfast table was only half full of guests. Most of his extended family had already left. Eleanor informed him that Katherine had left too, and she complained she had been very quiet this morning.

No doubt Katherine had slipped away as quickly as possible, to avoid him.

What the hell did she think of him? He should have turned her out last night. But what had been done could not be undone.

He thought of writing to her but what could he say?

Saying sorry would hardly suffice. Of course a marriage offer would put it all to rights, but she was the natural daughter of a milkmaid with an unknown father, and he was a duke.

The two did not mix. She would never cope with the public responsibilities of a duchess. She would be too out of place.

He realised then as he walked through the hall into the privacy of the library that he was actually weighing the idea up and considering it.

But he could not do it. Looking up, he stared at his grandfather’s portrait, the old man’s barbs were too deep in his blood.

Even John’s contrary nature could not quite go that far – just as becoming his mistress was a step too far for her.

They were at an impasse then.

There was no going forward and no going back.

He glared at the portrait, holding the old man’s gaze.

John would leave for London today. There was no point in staying here.